My Blood Is Boiling
by softywolf
Summary: "Are you even listening to yourself, Stiles?" Derek was whispering but his words still made Stiles flinch away. The hand gripping his shirt pressed harder against his chest and Stiles was positive that Derek could feel his heart pounding inside of him as well as he could hear it. "I don't send you home because I don't trust you or because I don't think you're an asset. I send you


Stiles huffed out an angry breath as he cut his jeep off. He resisted the urge to slam his hands against the steering wheel, instead clenching them until the skin of his knuckles were pale. He couldn't believe that after everything he and the pack had been through together, they still tried to send him home when something big was about to go down. What good was he pacing in his room? And hadn't he proven himself plenty of times? The thought had him cursing under his breath as he removed himself from the cab of the jeep. He slammed the door as gently as possible before stomping up the walkway and through the front door. His father was on the night shift which was a good thing because he really wasn't in the mood for trying to explain his mood and he really didn't want to get lectured for slamming doors and stomping about like a petulant child either.

Feeling like he was making a point to someone, but who he didn't exactly know, Stiles went to the kitchen instead of his room. The next fifteen minutes were spent making two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He poured himself a glass of milk because fuck, did he love milk. He chewed as loudly and obnoxiously as he pleased while he sat at the head of the kitchen table all alone.

What did it matter if the rest of the pack didn't want him around? He was used to being alone anyway and he certainly didn't need them. His room was dark when he eventually made his way up the stairs. And he was too exhausted to even bother with the light switch. After removing his hoodie and jeans, he flopped down on his bed and instantly fell into sleep.

When Stiles woke up, it was, unfortunately, still night. He sighed and rolled on his back to glare at the ceiling. It was quiet for a moment, until he realized that the shadow he'd seen in the corner near his desk was one that was definitely not usually there.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" He cried as Derek stepped into the small amount of moonlight slipping through the window.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing," Derek growled, eyes flashing red in the dark.

"What are you talking about, dude?! You're the one sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, trying to give me a heart attack or something!" Stiles shouted, shoving the blanket he'd pulled over himself in his sleep away. He sat up and pointed at Derek with a shaking finger. "You can't do that!"

"I'm the alpha, Stiles. I can do whatever I want," Derek said calmly, taking a step closer to the teen's bed. "Especially when one of my pack is being a complete dumbass and trying to get himself killed."

"Trying to get myself killed? What – what the fuck are you talking about?"

Derek stalked even closer, not stopping until his knees were brushing the side of the mattress. He glared down at Stiles, eyes changing to red again. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," he spat between clenched teeth. Stiles took in the way his hands were forming fists at his sides and the shaking of his shoulders and nearly whimpered.

"I really don't," he managed to say, voice steady. He met Derek's eyes as well as he could in the small amount of light in the room. "Care to elaborate?"

"Sure," Derek growled and suddenly his hands were grabbing at Stiles' t-shirt and pulling him from the bed. He slammed him against the closest wall and pressed in close. His chest was heaving against Stiles'. "How about this – the dumbass human in the pack seems to think it's okay for him to put himself in danger? Does that explain?"

"No. Because that isn't fair, at all. I've helped the pack plenty. You should trust me enough to help when something like a wendigo is attacking."

"Are you even listening to yourself, Stiles?" Derek was whispering but his words still made Stiles flinch away. The hand gripping his shirt pressed harder against his chest and Stiles was positive that Derek could feel his heart pounding inside of him as well as he could hear it. "I don't send you home because I don't trust you or because I don't think you're an asset. I send you home to protect you."

"I don't need you to protect me, Derek!" Stiles shouted, not caring how close the two of them were when he pushed Derek back. They were flush against one another from chest to ankle but Stiles didn't even notice because he was furious. He was not a child. "I can take care of myself!"

It was in that moment that Stiles realized Derek was gyrating his hips so that they pushed against the teen's with each forward movement. He gave an entirely dignified squeak and squeezed his eyes shut. Because what else could he do? Derek was bigger and stronger and there was no way that he could fight his way out of the werewolf's grip and even try to make a run for it. Not that he actually wanted to run away which became very apparent when he had to stifle a moan in the palm of his hand.

Stiles parted his lips to ask Derek exactly what was going on but the words never made it from his mouth. Because the very next second, Derek was pulling away and tugging his shirt off. The revelation of tan planes of skin, firm and muscled, had Stiles' mouth opening and closing like a fish's, his throat dry with the sudden burning need that shot through him. He was silent, unable to take his eyes off of Derek's chest, until he felt fingers tugging on the hem of his batman tee. Before that, it had been like everything was moving in slow motion.

"What are you doing?!" Stiles shouted in a whisper. His voice was lost in the pounding of his heart. "Derek, what exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Off. Clothes off," Derek said in response long finger still pulling at Stiles' shirt. "Take your clothes off now, Stiles."

"Why?" Stiles asked even as he was helping Derek remove his shirt.

Without warning, Derek's nose was rubbing against his neck – the tip moving gently over his Adam's apple and dipping into the hollow of his throat. His breath huffed hot against his skin, leaving Stiles a whimpering mess when he finally stopped just behind Stiles' ear. But then there was a tongue laving at this neck, leaving a wet stripe from his collar bone to his jawline.

"D-Derek," Stiles tried but his voice was lost in a groan as Derek's body slid against his, the werewolf moving lower until his knees touched the floor. And…yeah, he was definitely sniffing Stiles' junk. Moaning loudly, he put his hands in Derek's hair – the dark locks softer than he could have ever imagined against his fingers. Derek's hands were gripping Stiles' hip as he nosed at the place where Stiles' leg attached to his hip through his boxers. The teen yelped when teeth pinched at his flesh.

"I need…" Derek's voice rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against Stiles' thigh because of their proximity.

"What? What do you need?" Stiles asked in a low timbre.

"I need you to smell like _me_," the werewolf growled, jerking Stiles' boxers off with one swift movement. His mouth was a wet heat as it wrapped around Stiles' erection. The teen gasped, head thrown back against the wall. There were sharp nails clawing at the meat of Stiles' thigh, light scratches as Derek's tongue made a twirling motion around the younger man's cock.

"Wait, are you _scenting_ me?" Stiles barked out, using his grasp on Derek's head to push the werewolf away. "Derek, wolves only do that with their mates."

"I'm aware, Stiles," Derek said in annoyance, swatting Stiles' hand away so he could get back to his previous ministrations. He huffed angrily when Stiles stopped him again. "Stiles, if you don't let me do this, I will rip your throat out. With my teeth."

For the first time since Derek had met him, Stiles actually obeyed without complaint. It was silent in the small bedroom, aside from Stiles' small moans and panting, mixing with the tiny sounds of pleasure that Derek was emanating. When Derek was done, drinking every last drop of Stiles' come down, he pushed the now complaint teen down onto the mattress and hovered over him. His nose was cold as it brushed over Stiles' skin, touch feathery light trailing from his navel to his chin.

"Better?" Stiles asked, laughing tiredly.

"Much," Derek sounded very pleased with himself as he settled down beside Stiles. "You smell like you belong to me."


End file.
